


In Between What Makes Us We

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Public Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-15
Updated: 2010-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This shouldn't be the surprise that it is. Sam's possibly, maybe, ready for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Between What Makes Us We

It was gunshots with them for awhile. Or whatever. Explosive devices that sparked between one another constantly. The less than a foot space across cool leather was never enough and one snarky word led to another. A veritable cornucopia of insults and burns, just the hint of teasing to keep things bubbling on the surface and stifle any physical blows.

That didn’t stop them from coming though. The physical blows.

Things stirred and brewed like they always did. Because that was how it always was with them. Before it was leaving for school, Dean showing up, Dad missing, Jess dying. Then it was Sam and his powers, Sam and his death, Dean and his deal. Hell. That one dropped like baking soda in vinegar, rising streams of tension and agitation intermixed and aided with Ruby and demons, Lucifer and Angels.

One fight, one clock to his jaw and Dean uttering hauntingly familiar words from the floor of some motel that could have been anywhere. Everything spiraled, spun out of control faster than they knew, marked only by three or four months where it was simply _nothing_. And if either gathered things might be better upon Sam’s return, it was only putting the figurative lid on the pot that housed their very beings.

Dean shut down, lost control, struggled and fought to rein it back in. Sam tried. Dean pushed. It was a house of cards stacked too high and that collapse was inevitable.

When it happened, they were in a bar. Or more specifically outside a bar but it started with them in.

No one knew them there – no one knew them anywhere really, not anyone who wasn’t in some way affiliated with the supernatural – and Sam was ordering himself a beer.

Dean was playing – hustling – pool with a group of bikers that had already had one too many. They knew this game though, worked it well enough. The men had seen Dean lose brutally to Sam twice not forty minutes before and thought Dean was easy enough to get some money out of. Dean let them win games one and two. Game three was double or nothing. The big one. And Dean was hamming it up for good measure, pretending to sweat, wiping his brow with the back of his wrist.

Leaning an arm on the bar Sam spared them casual glances without making it obvious he was checking body languages, watching his brother’s back just to be safe. It was odd, the almost familiar normality of it. So many years, so many times being in places just like this and Sam had no idea what was coming. That was kind of always how their lives worked though.

Fifteen minutes later Dean was walking away from the table thumbing through bills, splitting the money in half, in fourths, two wads in separate pockets, two for Sam. They didn’t meet up again until they were outside, behind the bar listening to motorcycles rev up and take off into the night.

“Here,” Dean grunted and shoved money his way.

Sam knew the drill, stashed it away and rolled his shoulders. “Thought you pushed it a little far, waiting ‘til the end to clear the balls.”

A harsh snort left Dean’s lips and he tipped his beer back, swigging the alcohol like water. Like he did more than either ever admitted too. “Rich Sam. Been doin’ this for years, thanks for the vote of confidence though. You’re a real sport.”

It felt like it should come with a casual fist bump against his jaw and Sam’s nostrils flared because now-a-days that was just enough to get under his skin. “I’m just _trying_ to watch your back Dean. It wouldn’t hurt to take a little advice.”

“Watch your own back Sam.”

There was enough suggestion of a threat in the words to have the bristle crawling along Sam’s skin intensifying. Just like that his shoulders tensed, body shifting to remind his brother that, while he may be older, Sam was bigger. And anymore he could fight just as hard and strong. Dean knew this. Him not backing down was figurative fuel to the fire.

“You got something you want to say, Dean? Because I’m all ears, let’s hear your all mighty wisdom.”

It was bait; Sam knew it before the words even finished tipping off his tongue. Dean knew it too but he latched on and clamped down around it, pushing from his lean against the wall and tossing the beer bottle over his shoulder into the dumpster.

With a shatter it crashed along the empty metal bottom, echoing around the alley around them. That worked like the starting trigger for a race. One moment Sam stared down at his brother with narrowed eyes, the next he felt the rough pull of an arm hooked around his neck, dragging him down and holding him to his brother’s side.

And come on. _Seriously_?

“Dean,” Sam grunted and struggled against him, struggled against the surprise that came from being practically _wrestled_ like he was sixteen and not twenty seven, or more. “Dean, fuckin’ Dean, get _off_.”

It was a diversionary tactic as it turned out. Dean let him go and Sam was just barely managing to stumble back before Dean had fingers around his neck and cool sharp brick dug into his back. It could have been enough to make Sam cave; give up the fight because by this point it was only going to do more damage. But god _damnit_ Sam had been caving into things for years now – whether he knew it or not – and he wasn’t going to keep it up.

Digging the heels of his palms into Dean’s shoulders he pushed with everything he had in him, aided by the fights and curses, the insults and aggravations piled up over years of always being in each other’s space, on each other’s heels. His eyes widened as Dean stumbled back, nearly tripped on an over turned carton before hitting the steps and crashing hard on his ass. It looked painful. The part of Sam that didn’t feel guilty felt justified.

But the light in Dean’s eyes changed in a flash and before Sam could catch up he was up against the wall once more, struggling for control only this time it was over lips crushed hard against his. They twisted and turned, Sam pressing in on Dean, Dean pressing in on Sam. Fingers dug and pulled and spiraled in fabric as lips crashed, rocked, collided and parted.

Sam gasped; half formed his brother’s name only to have it chased away by a tongue thrust quick between parted lips. This. This could have been bad. It had real potential for real bad written all over it. They were almost all over each other in an alley behind a bar like the beginning of really bad born that Dean watched and Sam pretended he didn’t.

One – both – got the idea to stop before it could get out of hand because whatever _this_ happened to be it couldn’t happen here. And it was weird, not unpleasantly so, when they settled along the front bench of the Impala, things had simply _changed_.

There wasn’t a name to it, Sam still thought Dean played his music too loud, Dean still called Sam a bitch and turned the volume back up. But then they shared a smile and it was _real_. It hurt Sam, only slightly, to acknowledge he couldn’t remember the last real smile he’d had. When they got back to the motel Sam learned Dean’s talented tongue knew more than just sarcasm and wit.

He never would have guessed that this was what he needed, what they needed to get things right, to figure it out. It made sense in the long run but mostly Sam let himself not think about it. Besides which, feeling the silky smooth expanse of his brother’s body over his was enough to thoroughly distract him. It would have been easy to let Dean control this moment, take the reins and led them down yet another path that simply left them a bit fucked – in this case literally, though hopefully more than a bit.

Though with both naked, exposed to each other, Dean cooled off like Castiel had just appeared at the doorway. He hadn’t, thankfully but Sam checked anyway before looking at his brother with serious, slightly confused eyes. “What is it?” Sam murmured, mildly surprised since it was the first words he’d spoken since the kiss in the alley a half hour before.

“We shouldn’t do-“

Sam let him get about that much out before snorting ridiculously loud and rolling his eyes. “Oh Jesus, really? We’re gonna have this moral chit chat? Dean, do us both a favor. Shut the fuck up.”

There was definitely a retort on Dean’s lips but Sam swallowed it with his own, crushing his brother down flat against the mattress and holding him there. The give in Dean’s body was tangible in the way his hands roamed aimlessly along the wide expanse of Sam’s back, and the moan that fell between them when their cocks aligned and glided together with the aid of pre-come.

It was easier to flip Dean over than it should have been and Sam smirked, trailing the tip of his tongue from the back of Dean’s spine to the crack in his ass. “You would be filthy like this,” Dean grunted half into the pillow beneath his head and spread his legs wider.

“You would like it,” Sam retorted easily and bit down hard enough on Dean’s ass to make him squeak. A throaty, lust laced laugh bubbled up in Sam and he relished in it. They both did. In the brotherly banter that, this time, wasn’t just the side of snark and snide.

“Only cause I’m not the one about to-“

Dean’s words affectively ceased with Sam’s tongue doing the _about to_. It was musky and _oh-so-dirty_ , circling Dean’s entrance with the tip of his tongue. Sam rolled his hips down into the mattress and lapped at the skin, pressing with enough force to just break the hole. He dove in harder, more sure and firm in the wake of Dean’s body writhing uncontrollably beneath him.

Sam could make Dean feel a lot of things. Anger more often than not, love enough to sell his soul, sympathy when he got in over his head. The fact that he could make him _want_ zinged sharp fireworks across his skin and had him pressing one finger forward into spit saturated heat. Dean groaned, it might have been painful, Sam counteracted with the drag of his tongue over the broken barrier.

Working his finger and tongue until Dean was once more in that writhing, squirming state, Sam pulled back enough to admire. A fine sheen of sweet painted Dean’s back, glistening in the cheap lights of the motel room. “Fuck, look at you,” Sam nearly grunted, pulling his knees up enough to drop his free hand and stroke once, twice along his cock.

“Sam,” Dean groaned and pushed back against Sam’s finger.

They weren’t going to get far off salvia alone and Sam couldn’t help the smirk that danced across his lips when Dean almost _whimpered_ as his finger pulled back. The man muttered a half protest when Sam climbed off the bed and this had him laughing. “Relax Dean, just need to get a few things.”

 _A few things_ equaled a condom – two just in case – and the bottle of lube he kept stashed in the side pocket. It had been awhile since he used them but damn it never hurt to be well prepared. Case in point.

Dean had used the time in which Sam was procuring supplies to pull up to his knees, chest bent down into the mattress and Sam sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. “Jesus Dean, you’re a fucking slut.”

“Shut up Sam and just-“

Once more Sam had his brother choking on his words as he slid two slick fingers at once inside him. Dean trailed off in a hiss and Sam savored the ability to render him speechless. Had he known shutting Dean up was as easy as this before, he would have done _this_ years ago. Or, probably not because well, complications. And even a year ago Sam might have recoiled at the prospect of fucking his brother open with his fingers. Might being the operative word.

Three fingers and Dean was being so _loud_ Sam felt compelled to slap him hard on the ass to make a point. So he did and this only ratcheted the noise up to a volume hardly stifled by the pillow. Sam thanked whoever was – or wasn’t – out there that they always chose seedy motels where obscene moaning at all hours of the night wouldn’t bring unwanted attention their way. Still, he couldn’t help teasing. “Listen to you beg, you want me in you? Want me fucking you?”

“Fuck Sam, yeah, just, yeah, fucking…” Dean trip stumbled over his words, grinding back into Sam’s fingers like he just couldn’t get _enough_.

This was a different sort of simmering, final ingredients to the pot that turned the liquid burning red and made Sam’s pulse race at inhuman rates. The condom encased over his cock muted the pleasure only minimally for just a moment before he was up on his knees, slicking the latex and dragging the head over lubricated flesh. “Gonna fuck you so hard Dean, you’re gonna feel it for weeks.”

Dean’s moan was nothing short of guttural, long drawn and low in his throat. When he thought his brother might respond, beg for him to just _do it_ already, Sam broke the ring of muscle with one sharp quick thrust forward. It was just the side of too tight, enough to make Sam glad he wasn’t a virgin because he would have come right then and there.

It took all his will and concentration to give his brother time to adjust to the intrusion. Sam could have eased in, could have let him adjust inch by inch but that wasn’t what this was about. It was him, claiming his brother, tying him down to this moment, connecting them and breaking down all that shit built up over a history filled with rife. Sam’s fingers dug into Dean’s hipbones and tightened hard enough to leave bruises he’d definitely enjoy licking across later.

Because this? It was definitely happening again. A lot.

“Sam,” Dean grunted, annoyed as if it wasn’t the first time he’d said his brother’s name. Hips rocked back into his and Dean moaned. “Move damnit.”

“Make that needy fucking slut,” Sam smirked, expression flickering as he pulled back and slammed forward. It was enough to keep Dean from responding and to tug a sharp moan from Sam as he set the pace brutal and hard.

Maybe there would be times for slow and gentle, times later when they savored each push forward and slow pull back. It wasn’t now though. Sam fucked his brother hard into the mattress and didn’t ease even when sweat dripped in his eyes. He wiped at his brow with his palm before dropping it to the base of Dean’s spine and pushing him down.

The new angle with the bend of Dean’s body drove him deeper, slapping his balls against the skin each time he hit home. He knew when he slammed into Dean’s prostate when the man growled into the pillow. Sam’s head fell back, rolling from one shoulder to the other, hips quick snapping on repeat. Their labored breaths filled the air with pants and moans, blanketing them in warmth and crushing pressure along Sam’s chest.

Dean attempted to reach his cock and stroke, Sam batted his hand away and curled his fingers along the base, bending over the man’s back and forcing him to keep their weight up as he thrust forward and stroked in time. Sam could have lived off the sound of his brother’s moans for the rest of his life. The man was literally falling apart at his seams and Sam drove hard enough forward to slam the headboard against the wall.

Just when Sam thought there couldn’t be _more_ Dean came. Muscles clenched vice tight around his cock and held him place, holding him there until Sam growled, tugged Dean up by his hair and bit his shoulder. It stifled the moan that rolled through him as his orgasm slammed through his senses. Their bodies were molded together, lingering that way through shared releases before Sam was falling, crushing Dean beneath him.

Sam stayed there, rising and falling with Dean’s inhale exhales, buried in him until the air shifted from intensity to something thick. Both groaned as he pulled back, tied the condom off and tossed it into the trash.

Things had the potential to get awkward as Sam dropped onto his back, stared at the ceiling, Dean stayed on his stomach as if Sam had literally fucked the will to move out of him. Sam hadn’t exactly slept around a lot in his life but he’d been with enough people to sense an awkward, was that a one night stand moment coming on. Only it wasn’t anywhere near a one night stand because Sam still had to be around his brother all the time and there was no going back from this.

Hindsight being twenty twenty and all, Sam wondered if they’d just made a mistake comparable to opening the gates of hell. Sam knew how mistakes like that felt – first hand really, on more than one occasion – and hoped the tight clenching in his chest wasn’t suggesting that. “Dean,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“Don’t. Come on Sam. Don’t let it get this way.” Dean murmured and apparently found the ability to move, rolling on his side to face Sam, eyebrows pulling up as cooling come from the blanket slid across his skin.

“We just. We. God, we just did that.” Sam scrubbed his palm against his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

“Is this a moral thing? Didn’t we cover that?” Dean probably tried to look annoyed but Sam knew him too well.

That was fear on his face, in his eyes, and it slammed into Sam’s gut with a sickening realization. So maybe he didn’t know him as well as he thought. “Fuck. You wanted this, didn’t you? How long?” Appropriately, Dean ducked his head and picked at the loose threads on the blanket. Sam wasn’t going to let it drop. “Dean. How long have you wanted me?”

“For, years. For years, Sam. Alright? There, that’s the truth so,” Dean waved between them as if the space held some explanation for whatever the hell was happening.

Sam should have seen it. He’d always wondered if there was more to them, if maybe the tension and mounting aggravation was ultimately linked to something else. And suddenly some of Dean’s reactions to his mistakes made more sense. The cold betrayal in his eyes when he learned about Ruby, the way he’d thrown words at the man that he’d _known_ would sting. “Jesus. Damnit, Dean, you never said. You should have said.”

“Oh hey Sam, let’s fuck ‘cause that sounds _awesome_ and I’m not screwed enough for my own good,” Dean drawled sarcastically and narrowed his eyes.

And yeah, Dean had a point. He probably wouldn’t have reacted too well to that. If it had happened that way. “Well, obviously I wanted it too.”

“You never know what you want Sam,” Dean whispered and it was true enough Sam really couldn’t argue.

Fuck that logic though. Sam _knew_ this time. He hooked an arm around his brother’s neck and dragged him in, holding him tight to his body and squeezing. “This. I want this.”

“You sure? There’s no going back.” The words were muttered against Sam’s neck and an arm looped around his middle.

“Pretty sure we’re past the point of no going back,” Sam pointed out and smiled because this was just like his brother, pretending the weight of an answer wasn’t making him hold his breath. “M’sure Dean. This thing between us-“

“Love,” Dean suggested with an interruption.

The _real_ smile was wide enough to nearly be painful and Sam nudged him back to kiss him hard. “Yeah. Love.”

It was gunshots with them. Now and always. Sam just learned that wasn’t always a bad thing. “Bitch,” Dean pushed at him, squirming back on the bed. “S’cold. Blankets.”

“Pussy,” Sam snarked but was still grinning as he climbed off the bed to hit the lights.  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In All the Little Moments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/505194) by [anyothergirl415](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415)




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